Gravity
by Libby16
Summary: In a trance of liquid and filth, she failed to notice the rustling of the bushes, the bend in tree limbs. But she did pop to life when a figure came staggering like a drunkard through the tree line on the opposite side.


The firm earth supported her sturdy leather boots as she leisurely strolled along the countryside road. Braids pouring over her shoulders, the alabaster skin left victim to the beating sun's rays was tainted a light pink. A catchy tune caught in her throat, she hummed to herself as every step brought a new note.

The sky in severe clear, no cloud marred the perfect cerulean.

Occasionally, a horse and buggy would pass her by, the driver tipping his hat in greeting; she offered a polite smile in return.

Her house loomed in the distance – vast in its grandeur. Remembering her parents took to town today, she smiled lightly and picked up her pace, eager to eat the goodies that surely awaited her. She could practically taste angel white cupcakes with wispy frosting, jelly stuffed pastries; flaky baguettes. Saliva began to pool in her mouth and her leisurely pace hastened to a brisk walk. She had to fist her hands in her skirt to raise it up to prevent herself from tripping.

In her alacrity, she didn't notice the tree branch puckering in the middle of the otherwise smooth dirt path. Her boot hooked and she was sent fumbling to the ground. Raising her head after recovering from the disorientation, she gasped slightly and frowned in detestation of the dirt staining her dress. She grumbled under her breath slightly and pushed herself to her feet, dusting herself off in the process. Light brown earth was scattered on her lovely pink dress.

Luckily, the dust seemed to be sweeping off the dress rather easily. A few brushes of her dainty hand left the pastel visible and vibrant once more. Once she started walking again, she noticed that the back of her dress was heavier than the rest, weighing down slightly more. She twirled the fabric around only for her eyes to widen in horror. Earthy brown mud clung to the hem, thick and caked. She wouldn't be allowed into the house like this! Doing the only thing she knew, her course immediately shifted to the creek a good distance away.

She began to wonder if she had forgotten the way, but the sound of bubbling water reassured her. Hardly any sunlight escaped the blocking foliage and she relished in the shade. Edging her way down the slope, careful of her steps, she found herself at the bank. The water was trickling along in a steady, bubbling pace. Smooth in some areas, cresting over peaked rocks in others. It was one of her favorite places – the sound was comforting and always cleared her thoughts.

Angling herself, she fisted the stained fabric in her hand, twisted the skirt of the dress, and lowered it in the water. The hand not clutching the fabric worked intricately and diligently in removing the muck.

In a trance of liquid and filth, she failed to notice the rustling of the bushes, the bend in tree limbs. But she did pop to life when a figure came staggering like a drunkard through the tree line on the opposite side. With a slight shriek of surprise, she jerked away from the water, the dress flinging water in every which way. The intruder, though visibly limping, fumbled over his footsteps and crashed to the creek bed below. Though in a shallow portion, water cascaded lightly over his face, though not enough to cover his nose. But she could see he was struggling for oxygen and was unable to move.

She didn't know this stranger, but the instinct to help a fellow human took over her. Clutching her skirt, she ran the short distance across the creek, caring little about soaking her boots and pantalets. Despite her frail stature, she proved rather strong as she dragged the much larger foreigner to the bank.

He was coughing wildly and spluttering water out of various cavities. She immediately noticed the gash in his side – rust-colored blood staining his clothes. "What happened to you?" She was concerned for this stranger. Questions raced through her mind. How had this happened? Would he die? "What's your name?"

When the man was able to regain some air he replied in a weak, but somehow stable, voice. "My name is Vash."

"Lili Zwingli," she introduced herself. His eyes widened visibly at the name, though she paid little attention. "What's happened to you?"

He was panting heavily. He brought his hand from the hilt of the sword buried in its sheath to clutch his wounded side. "I made a stupid mistake in a fight, that's all." He slightly raised his hand to find it dripping crimson. She widened her eyes in shock when she heard a distinct chuckle. "It's not too deep," he said, "more than likely just a flesh wound. Knife slashes never tend to be too deep. It's nothing to worry about, little girl."

She stared at him skeptically, kneeling beside him she decided to glance over the gash herself. It was oozing crimson blood, but a clean slice at least; it would be easier to stich that way.

Bruises and scars marred his face and there were tatters in his clothes. He looked as though he hadn't eaten a decent meal or slept in a warm bed in weeks. She cupped her hand behind his head, slightly raising it up. "You will be coming with me," she slightly demanded.

"Excuse me?" He asked incredulously.

Losing the uncharacteristic audacity she had earlier, her face flushed. By some gravitational force, she was compelled to this man. Every bone in her body shook to help him, to see him mend. Through her embarrassment, she forced herself to strengthen. "You will be coming with me to my house where your wounds will be treated."

"But - "

"No buts," she interrupted.

"Lili, you must understand I cannot simply just go into your house like this."

She waved a hand dismissively. Her brazen attitude at the moment completely shocked her. "Of course you can, I'm inviting you."

Several other protests were made, but Vash simply couldn't resist the sparkling emerald eyes boring innocence into him. In the end, he had no choice but to succumb to the girl. With Lili's arm wrapped around his waist, he used the small girl for leverage as he hobbled down the path.

Several attempts at light conversation were made on her part, but Vash merely ignored all of them – his thoughts miles away. "Is that your house?" He asked monotonously when an extravagant mansion poked over the hill. She nodded, affirming his fear. His jaw set taut and lips pressed into a thin line; emerald eyes glazing over in steel.

Every step brought him pain; Lili wished she could somehow alleviate his pain then and there.

He visibly tensed when they crossed the wrought iron gates; the hand that wasn't resting on Lili's shoulder balled so tightly the knuckles turned white. Lili, having grown slightly shy, failed to notice.

Lili had yet to notice his strange attire. Metal clanked with his every step; the sword encased in its sheath bobbed with every rise of his foot.

Her hand timidly came to rest on the door handle and push open. Vash bit back a gasp of shock when they entered the foyer. High, arced ceilings with intricate detailing; lavish draperies cascaded to the floor below. His scowl deepened at the sight. Why did he always seem to find his way back here? What unearthly force dug its hands into his spine and firmly yanked? What gravitational pull did this house poses?

They stood awkwardly for a moment, Lili unsure of what to do from there. The carriage had been withdrawn from the front of the house; mother and father were visiting the village. She wasn't skilled in the art of healing wounds, but perhaps a servant was.

The voice of an angel came. "Ah, welcome home Ms. Lili! How was – AH!" The house keeper strode lightly into the room, her long skirt trailing behind her as if she carried the winds on her shoulders. The eyes, once kind and sincere to the small girl, went wide and alarmed at the intruder.

"It's alright Elizaveta!" Lili raised her free hand in a calming gesture. "I found him injured down the creek and couldn't leave him there."

Elizaveta shifted the cloth on her head and tucked her frying pan under her other arm as they folded over in a cross, calculating movement. She appeared harmless – pretzeled arms being a defensive position, but if he suddenly posed threat to either Lili or herself, her arms could unfold in one swift movement and bash the frying pan into his head without missing a beat.

Vash refused to meet her narrowing eyes, opting to set his gaze on a rather interesting spot on the tile below.

She noticed the crimson gash staining his clothes, and, to Lili's surprise, rolled her eyes. Her arms quickly unfolded as she strode forward purposefully. With a light grasp she removed Lili's hand from around his waist and watched as the little girl backed away slightly. In a swift motion she unceremoniously knocked off his balance with a light blow to the back of his knees. He fell back slightly with a sharp cry into Elizaveta's waiting arms. To his chagrin, he found he was being carried bridal style by the resolute girl. The look in her eyes dared him to defy her, and he set his lips in a tight line. She gripped the frying pan in her hand tighter.

Lili's eyes widened at the scene in front of her, though it truly shouldn't have shocked her. Elizaveta was a spitfire, kindred spirit.

Elizaveta set her gaze forward, refusing to look at the bleeding man in her arms, as her footsteps clacked off the walls. Lili trailed behind at a close, but not _too _close, distance. Her emerald eyes were set in concern for the strange man – he drew her in like a siren's call.

They drew into Elizaveta's room and she plopped him unceremoniously onto her well-made bed. The room was nothing extravagant – a simple bed and chestnut wardrobe. Pictures of she and her sweetheart adorning the small nightstand. "Lili," she said, never breaking her gaze from Vash, "please fetch me a bowl of warm water and a cloth."

"Yes ma'am!" She hastily replied and scurried out of the room. Vash's eyes followed her movement as her pastel dress exploded in a ruffle of crinolines and lace.

As soon as the door closed with a soft click, Vash's head was greeted with the brunt of a frying pan. It hit him with hard enough impact to send the world in a circle. He would be lucky if he escaped the impact without a concussion. Screaming words filled his ears, but he was still in too much of a daze to comprehend them. When he finally came to, the shrilling words caused his head to throb further.

"Vash Zwingli did you hear a word I just said?!" Elizaveta demanded.

He blinked at the girl a few times before cradling his head in his hand. "Well?!" She pressed, threatening the frying pan once more.

"No," he moaned.

The girl huffed and rested her hands on her hips in annoyance. "How _dare _you show up at this house again?" She asked dangerously low, leaving the shrill behind. That in itself was far more terrifying and sent shivers up his spine.

"Believe me it wasn't my intention." He brought his other hand to cover the wound. "I stumbled into the creek where she just happened to be and insisted I come here. I never wanted to see this house again."

"Damn that girl's kind heart," Elizaveta cursed. "You have no right to be here, Vash. You're lucky your mother and father decided to take to town today, or you would have to be answering to them." He cringed at the scene that played out in his head. His mother breaking down to tears after nearly 11 years of separation; his father staring at him with condescending eyes. He wouldn't be able to take it.

"I intend on leaving before sundown. Will my parents be back by then?" He asked the last part nervously.

"Possibly. They're visiting your cousins. Knowing your father he will stumble in completely drunk," she said the last part with a bite. He cringed – his mind had graciously filtered out the nights as a child where screams echoed the hall and alcohol tainted his father's breath. "Does she know?" Elizaveta decided to change the subject.

"She has no knowledge of who I am," he said. Elizaveta nodded in approval.

"You already know by now that your sister was brought up with no knowledge of you." Vash nodded. Until today he had never met his sister, though he had heard the rumors of the innocent flaxen-haired girl that the high Zwingli's bore after him. She was a highly guarded treasure – one with much more promise than their castaway miscreant son. When she had made her identity known to him in the creek, he felt like a deadweight had rested on his chest. There she was, Lili Zwingli – his sister and replacement.

Elizaveta clutched the frying pan, contemplating whether or not to whack him once more out of sheer spite, but decided against it after an internal struggle. "So, Vash, It' been seven years since I've seen you last. Naturally Lili wouldn't have any memory of that night, she being only four. How has life as a mercenary been treating you?""

He laughed sardonically. "It's not been easy," he said. "Never a warm bed, never a hot meal, but it's worthwhile – never boring." She looked at him skeptically.

"Clearly it's not all that worthwhile if it poses the threat of _death_ every day." She scowled. He merely cast his gaze at the rolling hillside out the window.

"Anything is better than being here," he said lowly.

Elizaveta crossed her arms once more and sat down on the bed by his feet. "Truly it's not that bad," she said. She then crumpled under her own lie. Resting her chin on her closed fist she sighed. "During the day it's nice. Lili is out on a walk and your father is sober, so the house is usually quiet. But at night…it's possibly worse than you remember."

Vash narrowed his eyes. Surely no one would ever suspect that the lavish Zwingli's were a disjointed, corrupt family. On the days they were seen in town smiles adorned their features and lighthearted conversation was abundant, but behind closed walls insanity broke loose in the form of pungent brandy and whisky. Lili would often find solace cradled in Elizaveta's arms – her own mother meaning nothing – as her father went on a rampage about the house.

Servants were constantly fleeing the household, entirely uncaring about lack of housing or pay. It was a hell they could not endure. The only reason Elizaveta and her sweetheart, Roderich, had stayed so long in the mansion was to see Lili raised properly. Drunken stupors and thrown silverware were small burdens when it came to the sweet child that they considered their own.

Just then a frazzled Lili stumbled her way through the door, a basin of steaming water cradled in her arms. "Here you are," she said softly.

Elizaveta gratefully accepted the basin. "Shirt, off," Elizaveta demanded. Lili's cheeks reddened and she prepared to leave the room. "Lili," Elizaveta said softly, "you want to be a nurse, do you not? This will be good practice for you." Lili glanced behind slightly, the chagrin visible on her face. She began walking back towards the bed. "Vash, remove your sword," Elizaveta ordered. He grudgingly complied – he felt he was shedding a piece of himself away. When he shifted, more rusty-red blood oozed out of the wound and he cringed in pain. Elizaveta pulled her lips in a tight line as Lili turned slightly green.

Miraculously, Lili was able to push aside her squeamish and embarrassed tendencies to help another human life. She dipped her small hand carefully into the steaming basin and gently wrung the cloth as though it were priceless treasure. The skin around the wound was inflamed and looked as though it could very easily become infected. Blood stuck to the skin and she dabbed at the stain with the slightest pressure. Vash tried his hardest not to wince – the girl was meticulous in her movements, but no matter who it was, it wouldn't take away the pain.

"Sorry!" She was quick to apologize for every dab.

"Don't worry about it," Vash tried to console.

Elizaveta had been watching the situation with meticulous eyes, trying to decide the best plan of action. With the blood mostly cleared, she could fully assess the severity. The cut wasn't deep, only a flesh wound, but it still ran risk of infection. "I'm going to get some ointment." Without another word she spun around on her heel and had disappeared from the room.

Silence droned as Lili slipped into her own little world – it was only she and the patient; a nurse by nature. "Lili, how old are you?"

The noise startled her, she had lost all comprehension that the one she was taking care of was a living, breathing human being capable of conversation. "Eleven," she answered. "But I'll be turning twelve next week."

He smiled lightly, thinking of the birthday parties he had missed. "Well, happy early birthday Lili Zwingli."

His words caused her eyes to sparkle. No matter how hard she fought, the smile refused to fade from her face. "Thank you," was all she said.

"So tell me," she said after a moment, "how is it?"

"How is what?"

"Life as a mercenary. What's it like being able to go wherever you want, whenever you want? All you have to do is get your hands slightly dirty," she said.

"It's nothing like I thought it would be, Lili. It's rough. I never have a bed to sleep in, or food to eat. I've seen many great lands, but I do miss the simpler life," he said, his eyes telling stories of childhood. "I was around your age when I ran away from home. I left at age twelve – so it's been around eleven years. I visited home seven years ago when I was sixteen, but it was a mistake."

She stared at him sympathetically. "Whatever caused you to run away like that must have been awful."

He smirked bitterly. "I think you have an idea of what happened."

"Oh?" She inquired, her eyebrows pulling together in interest.

He had to choose his words carefully. "I lived in a very nice house, but the family itself wasn't so nice. The father was a drunk and often went about on rampages throughout the night." He was downplaying the situation by far – images of flying fists and merciless shouts still clouded his memory.

She set her jaw taut for a moment and went very still, but she soon came out of it and relaxed once more, pulling on a great façade. "Vash," Lili cocked her head to the side, "why is there a whelp on the side of your head?" She gestured to the growing bruise.

"It's nothing, just got it in the fight," he lied while images of a frying pan flying through the air filled his mind.

Elizaveta returned with the ointment to find the wound mostly cleaned. She congratulated Lili on her handiwork. In return, the smaller girl flushed.

The wound dressed and bandaged, Vash attempted to rise, but Elizaveta firmly pressed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to lie on the bed with an audible _thud_. "I'd like to go, _please_," he said as nicely as he could manage, but the last part was practically seethed.

"Oh no you don't," Elizaveta protested. "You aren't going anywhere for a while. That wound, though shallow, still runs the chance of being infected. There's no way I'm letting you leave."

"But-" he protested, but was quickly interrupted.

"No buts!" Elizaveta raised her frying pan threateningly. He shrunk back into the sheets.

"What about the…_owners _of this house? Wouldn't they be rather shocked to see me – a stranger?" He quickly amended.

"Oh no," Lili smiled lightly, "mother wouldn't object."

"Your father," Elizaveta realized, not breaking her gaze from Vash.

"Oh," Lili sighed, crestfallen. Her shoulders fell.

Vash was in no mood to deal with his father, but now that he had met Lili he couldn't exactly leave her behind knowing she was in the arms of a monster. When her existence was only mere rumors he heard of while traveling through strange towns, she meant little to him. But now he had met her, he had gotten to know her slightly; in the short time he had known her, he had developed a slight adoration – she had drawn him in like gravity. He suddenly grew furious with himself – he knew this child existed and was in the arms of their father, and yet he did nothing about it. He felt thoroughly disgusted. He would make amends to his sister. "Actually, Elizaveta, it may not be such a bad idea to allow me to stay here and meet the owners." He said all that with a smile on his face.

"Vash," she said carefully, "are you sure?"

"Absolutely," he nodded. Lili found interest in tracing the pattern on one of her braids.

Elizaveta turned her attention to the young girl, "Lili, you should be off to your piano lesson now. Roderich is waiting." At the mention of the man, Lili immediately perked up. She absolutely adored Roderich, him being Elizaveta's fiancé. They wished to marry, but father forbade marriage of his employees. Though he did allow courting – it was a cruel joke. He waited till they fell in love only to snatch a chance at happiness away.

"Vash, I hope you know what you're doing." Elizaveta folded her arms, dreading the scene that was bound to take place that night.

* * *

Vash smiled at the sound of soft piano notes drifting through the hallways. Delicate, precise little hits of the keys. The song suited Lili to a tee.

Elizaveta was required to return to her chores, so he sat alone in solace. At one point he withdrew his sword from the hilt and traced his finger along the dangerously sharp edge. So many lives lost to this blade and it had all been for naught. He had gained nothing from his days as a mercenary, if anything he had lost a sister.

The sound of horses drawing in a carriage sounded over the sweet piano. He glanced out the window to see a stocky blonde woman fumble out of the carriage and nearly snort of laughter. He rolled his eyes for the sake of his mother's humility. But when a grotesque drunkard spilled out of the carriage and into the arms of the butler, Vash gripped the hilt of the sword tightly in his hands. That man had ruined his life – robust and merry in his brandy, he failed to raise a child as he should.

Forcing himself to a sitting position, he pulled his shirt over his head, biting his lip to hold back the pain. He could feel his muscles stretching the wound, but he swallowed his pain and stood tall and proud, as a mercenary should.

Giggles filled the corridors, echoing from the foyer. He could hear his mother's high shrill and he cringed slightly. He had never truly had a quarrel with his mother, but regardless he had a bit of detestation for her. She allowed the monster to unleash.

Without being noticed, he would have to make his way to the cellar where all the alcohol was stored. Through stealth he rounded corners and tiptoed down flights of stairs. The sounds of drunken slurs and light tapping of piano keys trailed behind him.

Even after being away from his house for over seven years, he had it mapped like the back of his hand.

He ran the back of his hand over the smooth wood of the cellar door, smiling at the polished finish, before raising his right leg and kicking it down with all his weight. The wound had long since been forgotten and had made itself known with vigor. He bit his lip to block the scream threatening to pass.

Gripping his side he edged his way to the musty cellar, dim light illuminating the way. Moist air greeted his lungs and the smell of earth flooded his nasal passaged. Some of the world's finest brandies adorned shelves on the walls – slick in their copper tone and ornate bottles. Without hesitation he unsheathed his sword and smashed the blade along the crystal. His ears were greeted with a satisfying shatter. Other shelves adorned the wall and he bucked the hilt into them, causing them to collapse. In hardly any time the floor was flooded with amber liquid – the pungent aroma wafting towards his nose, causing his eyes to water.

From above he heard curses flying in every direction. "What in the name of-" Vash heard being slurred as footsteps trudged down the staircase.

A drunkard spilled into the cellar below, face flushed to give the appearance of an overripe cherry. Vash stared in disgust at his father. He glared into the matching emerald eyes, but that was as far as the resemblance between the two went. His father, a stout, pudgy man scanned the room seemingly in a daze. "My…my brandy," he slurred. "What've you done, you bastard!" He pointed an angry finger at Vash.

"What I should have done a long time ago, father. Facing you instead of running away." Vash gripped the hilt of his sword even tighter.

Through the drunken stupor, his father's eyes widened in recognition. "Vash? Issat really you?" Vash nodded, solidifying his fate. "You smashed my brandy?" He asked softly; trust him to be more concerned about alcohol than the fact that his son, who he hadn't seen in seven years, was standing in front of him. Vash repeated the action. "Why I'll _killya_!" He went on a rampage; staggering forward with a shaky fist risen high in the air.

Vash easily sidestepped the first blow. His father faltered, disoriented from the motion. Vash stood resilient, deciding that he wouldn't harm his father unless he was directly threatened and it was absolutely necessary for self-defense.

Vash had taken residence behind his father, who was stuck in disorientation. "Where'd ya go?" He slurred glancing around wildly.

"Behind you," Vash replied coolly. His father whipped around so fast his feet slipped in the spilt brandy. He sprawled out on the floor like a squashed bug. The sight bemused Vash.

Though he pulled through his daze and was up once more angrier than ever. "You ungrateful bastard!" He yelled. There was no doubt in Vash's mind that the sound was echoing throughout the house – in no time he would be caught.

"Says the man who ruined my childhood! I'm setting things right for Lili!" Vash cried.

"_Lili_," his father sneered, "that no good _brat_?"

"Don't you _dare_ talk that way about her!" A new voice entered, followed by a loud _clang_! His father looked disoriented for a moment before collapsing to the ground. Elizaveta stood where the man had collapsed, frying pan in hand. She smirked, obviously proud of herself. "You deserved what you got you lazy cow," she sneered, twirling the pan around a finger. Vash backed away a step.

The two stared down at the grotesque man, disgust in their eyes. "Could you have _been_ any louder, Vash?" She asked incredulously. He replied only with a smirk. Elizaveta crossed her arms. "So what are you going to do now?"

He gazed at a point on the wall past her. "I can't leave Lili here with this man." He stared down at his father.

"No, you can't. Vash, if only you weren't a mercenary I'd insist you take her with you."

The two walked out of the cellar and into the foyer to find Roderich standing beside Lili, a hand pressed to her shoulder in protection. The loud noises had frightened her slightly. Her figure immediately relaxed once she saw Vash safe.

He limped slightly due to the wound. Elizaveta offered him her shoulder to rest on. "Vash!" Lili cried, running forward to wrap her arms around his waist. He smiled in amusement at the girl clinging to his frame.

"Oww, Lili," he hissed when she hugged a tad bit too tight and pressed against his wound.

"Sorry!" She cried, immediately jerking away and clamping her hands over her mouth.

Elizaveta nudged Vash's side. He looked at the wide-eyed girl and, though it was slightly painful, lowered to his knees so they were eye level. "Lili, do you know my name?"

She pulled her eyebrows together in confusion. "Of course, it's Vash."

He rested his hand on her shoulder. "That it is, Lili. My full name is Vash _Zwingli_."

The girl's eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what?" She managed to sputter.

"Lili, you have never met me before today, but I know who you are. I've known of you for a very long time, but I'm sorry I never made myself known until now. I was born and raised in this house but ran away eleven years ago because of our drunken father. Lili, I'm your brother," he said softly.

Her eyes, however possible, continued to widen. "My brother?" He nodded. "I have a brother?" She said incredulously. She looked to Elizaveta and Roderich, who had moved to wrap his arm around her waist – they both confirmed it. They had worked in the mansion for nearly fifteen years, surely they would have known Vash.

"Yes, Lili, I'm your brother." With that she flung her arms around his neck. He laughed lightly – a true, genuine laugh. It felt nice, refreshing. It had been so long he had almost forgotten what one felt like. He held her at arm's length. "Lili, I know what you're going through with this. Everything seems perfect from the outside, but you and I know it's not. I want to take you away from this place so you don't have to suffer like I did."

Her eyes lightened at the statement. "Take me away from here?"

Vash nodded. "Far away," he said. "You two will come, too, of course." He gestured to Elizaveta and Roderich. "You've been like parents to her and I want you to stay with her."

Roderich tightened his grip around Elizaveta's waist. "Our jobs are here, though. How will we sustain ourselves out there?"

"I've already thought that through," Vash said. "One of the men I recently worked for has been in search of a highly skilled musician to tutor his seven children. He pays a high amount and he would certainly offer Elizaveta a position as a maid. I'll say goodbye to my mercenary days. I could go to work for his company, a trading post along the coast."

It was almost too perfect. Situations such as this just didn't arise so perfectly. But Lili could see in her brother's eyes that he was sincere. "We'll leave immediately and stay the night in an inn so I can recover," he shot an accusing glare at Elizaveta, who nodded in approval.

Lili should have felt guilty for relishing in the thought of leaving her biological mother and father behind, but she soon realized she didn't care. They were merely pretty faces who gave her pretty things; Elizaveta and Roderich were the ones who raised her. There could finally be a family for her. Leaving behind a lavish house meant little to her.

"What do you say, Lili?" Vash offered her his hand.

She smiled lightly as she rested her dainty hand in his. He clasped his fingers around her dwarfed hand. "Okay," she said lightly.

A moan echoed from the cellar and footsteps could be heard. They all stared at each other in alarm, save for Elizaveta. "You all go on ahead and make reservations at the inn. Roderich, let Vash lean against you – he shouldn't even be walking in the first place with that wound. Go on! Get!" She ordered.

Roderich knew better than to defy her. "Alright everyone, let's go!" He supported Vast as he hobbled out the door, Lili clasping his hand. She forgot about all of her nice clothes and jewelry – a new life waited ahead for her.

Elizaveta watched them hobble out the door as another moan echoed from the cellar – only closer this time. She smiled and twirled the frying pan in her hand.

* * *

**Knocked this baby out in two nights! Woo! **

**A special thanks to LittleV123. Without you, this fic wouldn't exist.**

**Hope you enjoyed and please leave a review!**


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